Was It Worth It?
by Trisa Slyne
Summary: Stefan contemplates whether the decisions he has made to protect Mercy have been worth the cost to him. Set during Bone Crossed during Chapter 5 with the prompt "Why was Stefan there and what would've happened had the wolves not visited?"


**_Was It Worth It?_**

 _Author's Note: I ship StefanxMercy so freaking hard but there's not a lot out there for them. A reader on Tumblr, ireallylikedit requested this fic set in Bone Crossed Chapter 5. She wanted to know why Stefan was at Mercy's place originally and what would have happened had the wolves not been there. She agreed to help me beta it and this was born. I haven't completed this series yet so forgive me if the musings I include aren't exactly accurate._

I walked through my house, suffocated by its emptiness, its lack of laughter, life, and love. My children's absence haunted me in a way their ghosts couldn't. I wished I could see their phantoms, like my friend, so I could tell them goodbye. Instead, I found myself visiting their rooms, looking over their favorite belongings and pictures.

At some point I found myself speaking aloud, as if they were somehow able to hear me. I voiced the plans I had had for each of them, apologized for failing them, or just talked to them. It was the only catharsis I would be able to find. Avenging them was impossible- I had made a vow never to move against their murderer.

I had never broken a vow before but recent events had made me want to for the first time since making that particular vow.

Each member of my recent menagerie had known the peril of residing in my home. Some of them had wanted companionship, the rare few wanted to help me try to change the world, but most merely wanted a place to belong. I had so much to say to those rooms as I attempted to lift the heavy weight of grief from my shoulders, even if only a fraction. It was at the rooms of those who I had hoped to have helped ease the burden of immortality that I found myself unable to speak. The tears flowed as I found myself overwhelmed by the loss of the years before me I should have had with them.

After four centuries of existence, one would expect anyone would have become inured to loss, betrayal, and heartbreak. But some things, it seemed, one never became hardened to. I had thought Andre's theft of Daniel and Daniel's subsequent death by Andre's get had been agony.

It turned out I had yet to be educated in true agony.

True agony, it turned out, was being immobilized while my children desperately screamed for me until they suddenly winked out of existence one by one. Their shrieks still resounded in my head as they tried to summon me to their side, to their aide. My imagination provided sufficient imagery of what each of them could have experienced in their final moments, but I would never truly know. I was not allowed to see their ravaged bodies before they were disposed of.

No, instead I had been exposed to a new sort of anguish as I was further tortured until I was more beast than man and teleported to murder the only person left alive who held value for me.

The possibilities of what might have happened to her had the werewolves not been there still shook me to my core.

I found myself teleporting to her room, just to be sure she was still alive. To be sure I had not somehow constructed some imaginary version of her that was safe and protected from my bloodlust.

I appeared in Mercedes Thompson's dark bedroom, fully in control of myself, fully able to stop myself from feeding on her until she lay drained and dying in my arms.

The horrifying image left me as I found her in her bed, inhaling and exhaling at a steady rate as she lay in repose. My scent remained contained so as not to startle either her or her werewolf roommate, Samuel Cornick, who I could smell was home as well.

The desire to wake her and hold her would've stolen my breath had I been breathing. As it was, merely being in her presence eased the ache of loneliness enough that I was able to prevent myself from acting on all of my urges, innocent or otherwise.

Mercy was the only person left who mattered and I would fiercely protect her. Especially from myself.

For her, I had hidden her involvement in Andre's death, knowing the risk I was taking.

For her, I had endured torture, the loss of my children, and the breaking of ties with my seethe.

For her, I was now entirely alone in the world.

For her, I now endured her hatred of me for allowing Wulfe to murder two of Andre's escaped flock to further conceal her transgression.

Had I known what it would cost me to protect her, would I have done so?

My eyes traveled up and down her still form. Nothing about her appearance revealed anything extraordinary yet she succinctly expressed herself in subtle ways. I focused on her dark brown hair, loose in sleep but almost always in a practical braid when she was awake. Such a stupid thing to be so completely and entirely representative of her but it was. Her hair was long and glorious and feminine, yet almost always in a tight braid so she could shimmy under cars and, more lately, defend herself when needed.

Of course, it wasn't her looks that drew everyone to her side.

She was a female walker raised by wolves who worked as a mechanic for a fae warrior. And she held her own among all of the most powerful beings around her. Maybe not physically but she was clever and often got the last word. Honestly, I found her amusing and noble.

Walkers were anathema to us as their ghost-seeing abilities allowed them to find our lairs and slay us while we lay dormant. I was supposed to have killed her on sight for what she was. Then again, she had divulged that werewolves often killed coyotes in their territory and yet Bran had taken her in as a baby and Adam had declared her his mate. Somehow, she had the inborn ability to charm those who should naturally desire her death.

Indeed, she had so thoroughly charmed me on our first meeting I had found myself returning again and again, despite my reservations. Something had made me withhold her existence from Marsilia. Instead, I had insisted on assisting Mercy by allowing her to pay off her protection to the seethe by servicing our vehicles. And I had used my fondness for cars as my excuse to ensure I was the one who took care of that particular chore so no other vampire would ever see her and know her for what she was.

I had taken many risks for this woman, this mate to the local alpha of the wolf pack. She was someone who would never share my bed, never want to share eternity with me. More likely than not, she would end up being made into a wolf and despise me more than she did now.

And yet… the wolves who had raised her had taught her to despise me and mine. That hadn't prevented a friendship from blossoming between us. She hadn't seen me as a monster but rather as a Scooby Doo fanatic with fangs. She had been sure to follow the rules of her kind and mine concerning official business but that was rare between us. Most often we spent time discussing things from pop culture either one of us were fond of.

Trust had formed between us, to the point where I was even invited into her home, had been allowed to sleep in her closet as needed. She had even mentioned recently something about having a movie night at her place so I could attend as well, if Warren was willing. She was stubborn and strong-willed enough that our friendship could last the centuries… if I hadn't already broken it beyond repair. My own justifications meant nothing to her.

Mercy rolled over in her sleep, her hair falling away to expose her neck. I could practically feel her on my lips as I sank my teeth into the delicate flesh and fed. I had not had time to truly savor her the only time I had been able to feed on her. Daniel had just died and all of us were in danger of sharing his fate. The blood sharing had been blissful, but quick and efficient. I yearned to repeat the experience at our leisure, to drink from her slowly and have her drink from me. The ecstasy from feeding on her and having her feed on me could be addicting… and an aphrodisiac.

Her phone lit up on the bedside table, interrupting my thoughts before they could wander too far down a darkly tempting path. I glanced at the message without reservations.

10:36 pm Adam: Go to Spokane. Help your friend Amber. We will-

The message preview cut off at that point and I couldn't read the rest without opening it and leaving my scent on it letting Mercy know I had invaded her privacy. No, it was safer to make my own deductions: Mercy had a friend who needed help in Spokane, the Monster's territory. Perhaps I could somehow go with her and help her avoid him. I would have to consider how I would manage that. But it was something I could do to help her.

Was it worth it to risk myself again to help her, to get back in her favor?

Had everything I had done for her been worth the price I had paid?

I imagined what would have happened had I not intervened on her behalf. Marsilia would have found her, tortured her to death. For merely existing or for Andre's murder, it no longer mattered why. Marsilia desired her death almost as much as she desired to return home.

I thought of all of my children I had lost, all of the research to help humanity set back decades, my broken ties to my seethe, and the damaged relationship between Marsilia and I.

As I watched Mercy breathing steadily in the dark, I accepted that I already knew my answer. I had known it far longer than I had been willing to admit to myself.

I remained there until dawn, silently watching Mercy sleep, while secretly wishing for things that would never come to pass.


End file.
